Every Inch
by FrankieSunflower
Summary: Gwaine/Leon, and Merlin/Percival. An experiment in writing less popular slash pairings. VERY GRAPHIC.


**Author's Note**

I picked the names of various knights (and Merlin, because we can't leave him out) out of a hat in order to pair them off. Gwaine and Leon, according to my hat, are meant to be. Percival and Merlin, where they had been folded, were hooked over each other. I took that as a sign. Elyon and Lancelot both fell out of the hat and I can't help but wonder if there's some kind of rule against having your brother date your ex-boyfriend. I might work out something different for those two. Maybe they both fall in love with Arthur. If I get enough comments demanding a threesome, *shrug*.

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**GWAINE & LEON**

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A peculiar sensation washed over Leon the moment he entered his room. It was late. The soreness from that morning's training had only recently ebbed away to a barely perceptible irritation at the back of his mind. The hunt had distracted him from it, but now that he had time and silence to appreciate it, the ache was back in his muscles.

He knew, really, where the mental discomfort came from. Tomorrow was the day Merlin was going to tell Arthur. Percival had tried to insist that he be the one to tell the king. Even if he could physically overpower Merlin with ease, there was a kind of wisdom Merlin held over Percival, a power that came from reason and sensibility, emotional intelligence, which meant that when he wanted to be the one to tell Arthur the truth, no amount of muscle could shift him. Leon wasn't really too worried about the outcome of the revelation, he told himself. If Arthur hadn't minded that the captain of the guard, the man he scuffled with as a teenager in the stables, was attracted to men, then surely he wouldn't mind that his personal servant was likewise.

All the same. Merlin was a younger brother to Leon now. He knew Merlin's devotion to Arthur, and he didn't want to see the boy hurt. That, and Percival would tear down half the castle if he was told he couldn't see his lover any more.

To draw his mind away, Leon checked the hangings, the bed, the dividers. The room was as he had left it that morning when he stumbled into his shirt and shoes and ambled out the door, except that the bed had been made (_bless you Merlin – you must have done it on your way out of Percival's room_). The peculiar sensation remained. It was quiet, but there was something in the quietness – bare footseps? Leon couldn't tell. He felt the ache in his muscles subside, his hands itch for his sword (the damn thing had been left in the armoury), and pondered whether to – no, there it was. Breathing. He was being watched.

Leon didn't have time to lunge for the nearest bludgeon before he saw what was at the door, but in that instant, he knew he was in no danger. All the same, his heart floundered. His tongue became heavy. He stared. And Gwaine stared back, with that damn grin on his face, leaning in the open doorframe.

He wasn't in his nightshirt. He wasn't in anything. He was naked. He was dripping wet, illuminated around the edges by the torch hanging in the hall, a halo around his hair, his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Steam rose, barely perceptible, from his skin. His face was inclined slightly down, and he looked up at Leon from underneath his unworried brow. He looked devilish. He looked angelic.

Leon gathered the scattered parts of himself together long enough to grab Gwaine's arm (_hot and slippery, damn you Gwaine_), and pull him into the room before slamming the door.

'What are you doing?' Leon gasped.

'Just decided to drop by, see how you were,' Gwaine said with ridiculous casualness. Leon was speechless, mouth hanging open as if he might be able to catch some words out of thin air, because his brain certainly wasn't coming up with any. Not a single response.

'You're wet,' he said, because he had to say something.

Gwaine looked down at himself, and opened his crossed arms as if to give Leon a hug. 'You noticed.'

'Did you just get out of the bath?'

Gwaine paused, furrowing his brow without taking his eyes off Leon. Then, slowly, patronizingly, 'No. It's raining.'

'You got out of the bath, and walked naked down the hallway ... just to see me.'

The grin returned. The devilish, angelic grin. 'That's just about the size of it.'

Speaking of size. Leon had been trying with all his willpower not to glance down. He hadn't been able to conceal the automatic redirection of his eyes when he first saw Gwaine in the doorway. Gwaine had been half-hard then. Out of the corner of his eye Leon could have sworn he saw _it_ twitch. He turned around so he had his back to the unforgivably tempting spectacle of a naked, steaming Gwaine, in his bedroom. He started to pace away, shaking his head, trying to drag out some kind of disapproving statement, but he couldn't even remember if he wanted Gwaine out of his bedroom, or if he just wanted to tell him off.

Gwaine shivered loudly. 'I should have brought a blanket. Mind if I use yours?'

'Yes, I mi ...' Leon began, turning around again.

Gwaine had already taken Leon's grey woollen blanket and slung it around his shoulders. Only his shoulders. His front was still on display, and the little petulant distraction was enough to make Leon's eyes automatically glance down again. Bastard. Gwaine was more than half-hard. Not fully, but enough so to send out an unmistakable message. To make it obvious why he had decided to walk naked down the hallway, dripping wet, without bothering with a blanket or trousers, to get to Leon.

'Come warm me up.'

It wasn't a request. It was ... undeniable, unavoidable. Leon was walking toward Gwaine before he even realized it.

'You can't keep doing things like this,' Leon pleaded quietly when he reached Gwaine, running his fingers lightly up Gwaine's arms through the fabric. He couldn't bear to touch Gwaine yet, not just yet. He couldn't afford to come completely undone. He had to retain some composure. If Gwaine knew he could have Leon as easily as this, he'd never stop.

'I thought unpredictability was one of the things you like about me,' Gwaine whispered. His breath barely brushed Leon's lips.

'If you got caught, if you were seen ...'

'Everyone knows about us.'

'A knight is supposed to behave respectably at all times. We represent Camelot, on and off the field of battle.'

'Always the noble captain of the guard. We're not wearing the crest of Camelot now, Leon,' Gwaine murmured, reaching up one arm so the blanket almost fell off his shoulder. He closed the remaining distance between them and slid his hand up Leon's neck into his hair. He took advantage of Leon's refusal to lower his face, and nuzzled Leon's neck instead, pressing his lips to the hollow in the middle of his collarbone, up to just beneath his ear. He stuck out his tongue and gently drew it along Leon's jaw, and it was then that Leon felt the wetness of Gwaine's chest and legs make its way through the fabric of his shirt and trousers, to his skin.

Torture. He didn't want it to stop. His skin was sensitized, by the antagonism of Gwaine's bare refusal to do as he was told, or by pure and simple lust, it didn't matter which, but Gwaine's stubble was making Leon desperately glad that Gwaine kept forgetting to shave.

'If you kiss me goodnight, I promise to cover myself up and go back to my room,' Gwaine whispered, prodding Leon's ear with his tongue to punctuate the end of his sentence.

'You'll do no such thing,' Leon rasped. He dragged the blanket off Gwaine's shoulders and backed him into the bed, grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him onto his back on the covers. Gwaine bounced slightly with the force of his landing, and Leon savoured the brief expression of surprise on Gwaine's face before it was replaced with one of ravenous satisfaction. As he crawled up Gwaine's body, biting the skin within reach until he reached those warm, curved lips, Leon made it his goal to wipe all of Gwaine's self-satisfied expressions away until all that was left was sheer, overpowering ecstasy.

"Respectable" be damned.

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**MERLIN & PERCIVAL**

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It was later than Merlin would have liked. Where the skyline had once been clear out the window, there was now only deep black punctuated in places with the warm orange light of candles burning in windows. He wondered if Percival might have already gone to bed. The knights had had a busy day. If he went into Percival's room and woke him up, Percival would insist on indulging Merlin, attending to Merlin's needs, never mind his own, and then he'd be all the more tired in the morning, and Merlin would feel bad about it.

But then again, Percival had said he'd wait up for Merlin. That he'd expect him. Merlin couldn't leave him hanging. He'd just stay for an hour or two. That was what he repeated to himself as he made his way past Leon's door (low moaning reverberating through the wood – Gwaine must have made good on his threat to take up Merlin's "naked surprise" dare) and to Percival's. It was half-open.

Percival must have been waiting. He swung the door fully open and broke into a wide grin, glancing up and down the hall before pulling Merlin through the door and closing it with his hip.

'I'm glad it's you. I opened the door when I heard footsteps earlier, and you don't want to know what I saw dangling in Leon's doorway.'

Merlin chuckled. So Gwaine had definitely taken up the dare.

Silence took over as they looked each other over. The smile slowly slid from Merlin's face. They both knew why he was here tonight. If Arthur didn't respond well tomorrow, it might be the last opportunity they had to be together like this.

Merlin focussed his attention on the bruises on Percival's arms. Percival didn't miss the evasiveness in the way Merlin fussed over grazes on his elbow and on his knuckles. _Yes, training was rough, but it's not that bad, I swear. I can't even feel it._ He waited until Merlin was leaning up to inspect a small cut on his cheekbone before gathering the servant up in his arms, putting an end the empty words of worry with an impatient kiss.

Merlin's arm went up and around Percival's shoulders and he raised himself up on his toes. Before, when they first began, he had been unsure about how Percival held him the way he had held Lamia – the way he held Merlin as if Merlin was a girl. But it was impossible for Percival _not_ to. The man was big, tall, broad-shouldered. It was a matter of proportion. He couldn't hold Merlin without engulfing him somehow. Merlin didn't mind it at all now. There was something in the way Percival held Merlin that reminded him of a child cuddling a toy.

Percival teased Merlin's lips with his tongue and Merlin gave himself up a little more accordingly, and as if it was permission, Percival trailed one of his hands down Merlin's back and let it rest just above his bum, lower than his lower back but not quite where they both wanted it. There was a propriety to the process, a list of things they had to do, comfort each other, so they knew it wasn't just lust. All body parts were fair game once they were out of their clothes, and the way the kiss was going, they knew they wouldn't have long to wait.

Percival led Merlin back to the bed and toppled onto his back, bringing Merlin with him. The kiss only broke briefly so they could catch their breath.

'It will be all right,' Percival promised. 'Arthur has no reason to get angry.'

'Too many secrets …' Merlin mumbled. He had buried his face in Percival's neck and was trying to nuzzle into his shirt. Percival let him burrow, and laughed as Merlin hit a ticklish area, before managing to dislodge Merlin's teasing nose and lips.

They made their way to sit up against the headboard, folded into each other (or Merlin folded into Percival, with Percival's arms tucked around Merlin's body, one hand having snuck into the folds of his shirt and thumbing his belly affectionately).

'For all we know, he could congratulate us,' Percival said, trying to sound hopeful. 'He knows that you are a selfless, kind person, and that you will never let me down. He sees me as a good and noble example of a knight. Maybe he'll approve of the match.'

Merlin just rested his head in the crook between Percival's neck and shoulder and said nothing. Conversation did not suit the moment. Percival decided to let Merlin think. He stroked Merlin's skin beneath his shirt again, and let his other hand move up from Merlin's knee to his thigh. Merlin let Percival's hands explore, and after a moment, he silently sat up, lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it off the end of the bed, settling back into Percival's broad chest. Percival let his fingertips freely roam the pale, unblemished skin before him. He mapped Merlin's arms and bony hands and flat abdomen, and rubbed Merlin's back when he started to curl more closely into Percival's arms.

'Kiss,' Merlin whispered, lifting his face. The single word made Percival's mind melt, words dissolving in his mouth into nothing, and the best he could do was instantly respond to Merlin's plea and kiss him, trying to pour every ounce of devotion he felt into the delicious, perfect pressure of their mouths meeting and show Merlin, somehow show him, that there was no way such a beautiful thing could be wrong, not in a King's eyes, not in the eyes of the most doubtful cynic.

Merlin knelt on Percival's thighs, straddling him, and placed his hands at either side of Percival's face and held the kiss possessively. He tilted his head, moulded his lips over Percival's, and Percival swore he could feel the comfort, the safety return to Merlin's movements, the languidness of his limbs, the sultry slow-dance of their lips pressed together.

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**GWAINE & LEON**

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Gwaine's toes were curling and uncurling. From down where he was, it was hard for Leon to tell if Gwaine was still smiling. All he could see of his lover's head was the angular line of his chin, because Gwaine had thrown his head back into the pillows, and like a man trying to keep his head above water, he hadn't lowered it.

Below Gwaine's waist, Leon could feel every twitch, every pulse, every taught and slack and straining muscle. He could feel Gwaine's legs over his shoulders tense and relax. He could feel, in the hot depths of Gwaine's inside, the tightening of a body trying in vain to draw in and reject an unexpected invasion. He dug his three fingers in further, harder, harder than he thought Gwaine could take, and was rewarded with a weak and desperate whine.

'_Mmmoore_ ... I want ... oh god, Leon, you nnn ... you know what I wa ... wah ... _uuuhhhg_ ...'

He could feel the throb of Gwaine's tormented cock in his throat. He hadn't released that column of flesh since he first descended on it ten minutes ago, and with his other hand he squeezed it at the base so that Gwaine couldn't have release. Not until Leon decided he could.

Gwaine was exasperated, exhausted. But Leon wasn't done with him yet.

Leon suckled at the tip of Gwaine's dick, drawing him back to the brink of pleasure and wriggling the tip of his tongue against the slit the way he knew Gwaine liked. He slurped obscenely, drawing the tip into his throat and swallowing until Gwaine was bucking his hips, a disobedient stallion, groaning with his fingers buried in Leon's hair.

He began to withdraw his fingers and Gwaine opened his legs wider, drawing up his knees. This complete understanding, this desire to be had, to be taken, this faith that Gwaine placed in Leon, this was what Leon did it all for. This was what he put up with Gwaine's smarminess for. This was what he loved him for. This sweet trust.

'On my back ... keep me on my back ... I want to watch you, your face,' Gwaine panted, flushed and dishevelled. His hair, still wet, clung to his forehead and dampened the pillows and the mattress.

Leon nodded, spitting on his hand. He had nothing else to use. He smeared it hurriedly over his cock, unable to resist a few quick strokes, and felt it jump at the look that passed over Gwaine's face as he watched.

'Do that next time too,' Gwaine muttered. 'I want to watch you do that to yourself. Next time. Right now, I need that massive thing in me.'

'I'll remember,' Leon promised. The reservation, the annoyance, the well-behaved Leon had been washed away by Gwaine's unashamed eroticism and all he could feel that was left of himself was a need. Gwaine's body and his. Together, like this. He needed it.

He nudged Gwaine's winking opening, glancing between Gwaine's face (bitten lip, eyes squeezed shut, shining with water and sweat) and his arse, watching it take him in, watching their bodies lock into one another.

Gwaine slid back onto the pillows, one of his legs shakily straightening over Leon's shoulder as Leon leaned into the last few inches, pushing it all the way in with the weight of his body. Gwaine's mouth opened, and a sigh escaped, and his tongue touched the roof of his mouth ...

'... Leon ...'

Leon swam through the fog of his mind and his body, confused and writhing, trying to focus. He couldn't come now. Not yet. It wasn't time yet. Gwaine had to reach release first. Leon couldn't feel true satisfaction unless he came with Gwaine's cum spurting onto his chest, his belly, his face, trickling down between his thighs, wherever it was aimed.

Gwaine wriggled slightly, biting his lip again, trying to grip Leon's thighs. Leon took the hint and, grasping onto self-control, he eased back and barged in.

Gwaine descended rapidly into an animalistic haze. He dug his fingers into Leon's skin wherever he could reach it, growling loudly, spreading his legs further and then squeezing Leon between them. Leon answered Gwaine's desperation with his own brutality, casting aside fear of hurting him – Gwaine was indestructible when he was fighting or having sex – and ramming his cock into Gwaine's pink, abused hole relentlessly. He gripped Gwaine's waist, just above his hipbones, and propping himself on his knees. Gwaine's grasping hands could no longer reach him without arching his back.

Gwaine grunted, then raised his hands and grabbed the headboard, wrapping his legs tightly around Leon's waist. He pushed back into Leon's thrusts as best he could, but Leon had complete control in this position.

Then Leon lunged in, just so, and Gwaine let out a stream of curses and blessings, somewhere within which was "there, right there, _right there_." Leon took a firmer grip on Gwaine's hip, rubbing and forcing the pleasure deep into his vulnerable, sensitive sweet spot until Gwaine was groaning like a bear and shaking with the force of Leon's thrusts.

Leon hammered like a battering ram until Gwaine was a complete mess, clinging to the sheets for dear life. His body was starting to tire, but there was no way he was letting Gwaine know that. He rearranged his legs so he was seated. He lay back and pulled Gwaine even further onto his lap, resting his feet on the pillows either side of Gwaine's head. Gwaine, realizing what Leon was doing, pulled himself slowly into a sitting position, never once letting Leon's cock leave his body.

And then there he was, looking down, dark, handsome, slippery and anguished, wrecked, shivering with lust, sliding his hands up Leon's chest, pinching his nipples, up to his neck. Then he was leaning down, difficult as it was with his knees under Leon's arms and their bodies joined at the hip, and he kissed Leon gently.

Then he threw his head back and started to ride.

He didn't start slowly. He launched himself into a raging, unforgiving pace, a full gallop, crying out without restraint. He grabbed his cock in his hand, fisted it, and then let it go as if he was afraid of too much pleasure. As if it was too much, but not nearly enough.

Leon's hands were back on Gwaine's waist, and he snapped his hips up. Gwaine leaned and fell forward with his hands landing either side of Leon's head. They were synchronised, perfectly in tandem, both thrusting madly, violently beating each other into orgasm, and the lights exploded in Leon's head as he felt Gwaine splash his belly and chest and neck with warm white thick liquid and then Gwaine hissed _YES_ as Leon filled him with come, holding Gwaine on him, hard. He couldn't touch himself while he was still inside Gwaine, so he touched Gwaine's neglected cock instead, revelling in the shaky delirious moan that this produced, and rubbed and tugged at it ruthlessly, still emptying himself in Gwaine's squeezing insides.

Gwaine slackened, but he didn't move from Leon's lap, and he didn't try to free Leon's cock from the confines of his body. He was limp, quiet, except for the deep breaths he was sucking into his lungs.

Leon rubbed Gwaine's legs and let him collapse onto his back, then manoeuvred himself out from under his lover, taking note of Gwaine's hiss as he pulled his cock free (and of the ooze of white cum that followed).

Leon lay next to Gwaine and shifted onto his side to watch the man gasp for breath. The strength of orgasm, the tiredness of the day combined with the unexpected but violent passion of their lovemaking left him in a mesmerized state. It was as much as he could do to roll over.

Gwaine seemed the same. He slowly pulled himself onto his side so he was facing Leon, and rested his hand on Leon's arm.

The gesture was a simple one, but it left Leon's thudding heart fluttering in his chest. Sex would drive him to filthy behaviour, but subtle romantic gestures like this from Gwaine still made Leon feel like a love-struck boy.

'Mind if I stay here tonight?' Gwaine murmured breathlessly. 'It just that ... I couldn't walk right now if my life depended on it.'

Leon nodded and inched his face forward. Gwaine grinned again – that stupid, damn grin just wouldn't go away – and left a butterfly-light kiss on Leon's mouth.

'Remember what you promised ...' Gwaine murmured.

'Yes,' Leon replied. _I want to watch you do that to yourself_. What Gwaine had requested. 'I'll let you watch me next time.'

Gwaine's face went blank, then he chuckled. It rasped out of his used throat and he curled up slightly, as if in pain. Leon scrunched up his face in confusion. The Gwaine straightened out again, slowly, lethargically.

'That too, but I meant the other promise. The one you made … back then.'

Leon blushed. Ah. That one.

The one he made first, when this whole fiasco of a relationship started, drunkenly in Gwaine's bedroom after the bender they went on together following Lancelot's death. _If you would let me, I would kiss every inch of you. Even covered in the grime of battle, in sweat and blood, I want to kiss you. And if you take off all of your clothes, I'll do it. I'll kiss every inch of your body._

And Gwaine's response. The words that made his soul sing._ Promise me you'll do it, swear you will, and I'll take my clothes off right now._

Leon leaned over Gwaine on his aching arms and pressed kiss after kiss all over his face. 'You are a romantic,' he whispered. 'I knew it.'

Gwaine didn't disagree. He silently let Leon kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his ears, his nose, his eyelids, his lips, again and again his lips, and his chin and throat and the expanse of his torso. His chest, his nipples, every muscular curve and dip and rise. His ribs and his abdomen. Every scar. Every inch, as he promised.

'You indulge me,' Gwaine whispered. It sounded at once both sad and infinitely pleased. Only Gwaine could accomplish such a voice, Leon thought. And he descended, pressed a firm kiss to the shaft of Gwaine's spent cock, more kisses down his legs, right down to his feet. Every toe. Then up again, all along his arms, with especially long kisses for the palms of his hands as if to leave something special there that Gwaine could hold onto when Leon wasn't within reach.

Gwaine's breathing and heartbeat had levelled out and his body was as motionless as if he were asleep. Even his eyes were closed. But when Leon lined himself up with his lover, weight leaning on his arms, Gwaine's eyes opened and he smiled widely.

'How do I taste?'

Leon could not help but return Gwaine's smile this time.

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**MERLIN & PERCIVAL**

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Percival hurled Merlin's pants across the room to join the rest of the clothes, scattered near the closet and the chest and table. Finding them in the morning would be interesting. Percival, if his mind was on the subject, would worry about Merlin having to be up early for work and needing those pants.

But his mind wasn't on the subject. His mind was only able to register one thing, and that one thing was a now completely unclothed Merlin splayed on his bed sheets on his back beneath Percival, whose skin he was tormenting with his adventurous hands, his long fingers, surprisingly strong, though more sinew than muscle. Those hands, though their owner's eyes were locked firmly on the darkened eyes above him, found their target with ease.

'Start slow,' Percival gasped as Merlin wrapped both hands around it. 'I still want to use that on you.'

Merlin smiled impishly at this declaration, and he started slow, as he was told. But he was still using both hands, and some of the fingers of those hands had been in Percival's mouth, and the moisture combined with the fact that Merlin was unfairly talented when both of his hands had access to Percival's sensitive bits made it impossible for Percival to keep himself under control.

He lowered himself and grinded his hips against Merlin's, rubbing their cocks together. Merlin gave a shuddering moan and his hands went straight to Percival's upper thighs, and even as he rolled his hips it wasn't enough, or it wasn't soon enough, and Percival wanted their whole bodies pressed tightly to one another, but he didn't want to crush Merlin to death like he nearly did last time, so he put one arm behind Merlin's back and rolled over so Merlin was on top of him.

Whether it was an emotional desire, or a sexual desire to feel as much of Percival's body as possible, Merlin had the same idea as his lover and rested his whole body weight atop Percival, mouths connected, rutting against each other desperately. Percival's tongue speared into Merlins' mouth, simulating the pace he struck when they lay together, consistent, slow but deep.

Merlin let his legs fall at either side of Percival's, and sat up. He leaned over Percival and fetched a vial of oily liquid, never losing eye contact.

Percival wondered if Gaius knew what Merlin wanted the stuff for when he asked for it, or if Merlin had just mixed it himself.

Merlin's cheeks were flushed and his lips seemed pinker, or perhaps that was just the candlelight. He spilled the oil into his hand and put the vial on the dresser, leaning forward to rest his dry hand on the pillow beside Percival's head. With his oiled hand he reached down, between his legs. Neither of them spoke. They were closest when they were like this, and when they were like this, they were silent. Once true intimacy had been achieved, all communication happened through touch.

Percival watched in silent awe. Merlin's lips were parted, and little shuddering breaths brushed Percival's chest so lightly he thought it might be his imagination. Merlin was trying to work quickly, brow furrowed and eyes shut tight as he worked himself open for Percival, and no matter how long he did it, it wouldn't quite be enough because he was only recently a virgin and Percival was a giant in more ways than one.

But he would do it, because he wanted Percival, and he wasn't ashamed for Percival to see it, this vulnerability. He was unafraid of pain as long as Percival was in him, filling him with attention, love, desire, passion, unique and remarkable. Percival was reminded by Merlin's unapologetic naivety that he was Merlin's first, and he was grateful for it. He would die of jealousy at the thought of someone else having seen Merlin, touched Merlin, had Merlin, like this.

Merlin pulled his fingers away, sheer impatience making him take Percival's swollen red cock in his oily hand and stroke it hurriedly before sitting straight up again and positioning himself, holding it so the broad, smooth tip was already pressing against his unready hole.

A wave of thought crossed Percival's mind, and he stilled his hands where they had been stroking Merlin's thighs. He sat up, shushing the worry from Merlin's face, and gently directed Merlin to turn. He loosely crossed his legs and pulled Merlin onto his lap, so they were chest-to-back.

They were closer this way.

Merlin lowered himself, torturously slow, onto Percival's cock. He stilled once, twice, head lowered in pained focus. Percival swallowed a groan and forced himself not to push it the rest of the way in. Merlin had to be ready, as ready as he could be.

Merlin had other ideas.

Bracing his feet on the tangle of blankets before him, Merlin kicked firmly, slamming his arse onto Percival's cock and suddenly that mercilessly large rod was buried inside him to the hilt, and Merlin was panting through clenched teeth, fists clenched, feeling the deepest, most intense burn he had ever experienced, only once before in Percival's bed, only this time he had pulled the burn into himself, expected it, needed it. And Percival shuddered, throbbed, and Merlin could feel the throbbing of Percival's huge cock inside his body, feel Percival's hands on his chest, holding him, slide down to palm his taut balls and slip one, two fingers further under to feel the spot where their bodies were joined, feel the taut skin and the bulging veins of his own manhood.

They were perfectly still for a moment, afraid to break the perfect moment where pain and pleasure were entirely the same thing.

Then Merlin tentatively rocked his hips, paused, and tried a different angle, pushing his body again onto Percival's lap, more of a rub than a thrust, careful and gentle. Percival sought out Merlin's hands and held them, pushing down the desire to just grab Merlin and give him a good, thorough fucking. He let the boy set the pace.

Merlin must have known, and he cast aside his cautiousness to bob unevenly, teasing Percival with just enough friction to bring him pleasure, but not enough to satisfy his craving. Merlin continued like this until he felt his infuriated lover gnawing with his lips at the back of his neck.

At first it was a small, shy, experimental swirl of his hips. Then Merlin felt the way Percival breathed more heavily on the back of his hair, felt the way Percival clenched his hands around Merlin's, almost breaking his fingers. And he swirled a little again, to the left, rolling his hips, feeling the sting intensify. Merlin bit his lip and gave a daring twist, easing Percival's cock halfway out of him and surging back down onto it, chasing the fire as it burned him inside, bringing with it something sweet and hot and good. He groaned breathily, and whimpered as Percival took mouthfuls of his neck and sucked, bit hungrily, desperately.

Preparation time was over. Percival grasped Merlin's cock in his right hand and used his left to hold and tease Merlin's balls, and he lost himself in Merlin's thrusts and writhing twists. Merlin was starting to whine and emit guttural, groaning cries, unselfconscious, and his hands had gone to Percival's legs, to anchor himself. His movements were becoming frantic.

'God … yes, yes, yesyes ooouugh … Percival, _please_ … oh fuck, please, _yes, God_ yes …' frantic, and urgent, with Percival's hands working him as eagerly as he knew Percival worked himself when he was alone and horny, and the candles on the dresser were bright and the shadows were pure black and Percival was touching him there with his fingertips again, feeling the point where one slid in and out of the other, and Merlin hoped Percival wasn't going to get curious and push his finger in as well because it already felt as if Percival's whole huge body was inside him.

But Percival's finger went back to where Merlin wanted it, flicking the tip of his cock, making him feel as if he was about to come already. But not yet.

Merlin tilted his head and stretched his neck and found Percival's mouth with his, and they kissed, sloppily at first, then more confidently. Merlin released the kiss and got on his hands and knees. He did it slowly, but the loss of Percival's cock still caused an ache, and when Percival position himself on his knees (there was no height problem here – Merlin had long legs) the pain of re-entry was just as bad.

But it was good, somehow. Merlin wanted it to hurt.

Percival eased in, until his massive red cock was filling Merlin completely, right to the base, and Merlin was as tight as he been on the first night, whimpering softly the way he had then. But he was rocking back into Percival too, wanting more, ready, or at least eager for it.

Percival bumped against Merlin, not letting his cock more than a few inches out of Merlin's severely stretched hole before shoving it back in, and Merlin was begging, for him to go harder, promising that he could take it.

Percival took hold of Merlin's cock again as he hammered away, felt how hard it was. It was enough to make him want to come. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, see the way Merlin's back curved as the boy strained back, yearning for it. He reached his other hand around, holding Merlin firmly around the middle with both arms, as he pumped Merlin's cock and pounded into him.

Merlin pushed his face into the bed. He could barely breathe, but if he didn't bite down on something, he was going to scream. His entire body was erupting, and the build-up of tension, of ecstasy, had to go somewhere, and as far as he was concerned it was a fucking miracle that the torches in the corridor weren't exploding and the wells weren't frothing over with the strength of his pleasure.

Percival exploded into Merlin, triggering the final agonized overflow, and Merlin came all over Percival's hands with a loud, long groan.

Percival kept rubbing Merlin's cock even as he sank down onto him, pushing him face-first onto the soiled bed sheets. Merlin turned his head to the side so he could breathe, and wriggled gingerly. Percival's long, thick column was still firmly entrenched inside his aching arse, and even though it was no longer as hard as a bludgeon, it still made it necessary for Merlin to spread his legs wider so as to avoid the feeling of having a tree trunk lodged inside him.

Percival noticed, and took his hands off Merlin's dick for long enough to grab hold of his thighs and pull them apart until he could rest easily between them.

Merlin grunted and chuckled. He wouldn't complain. He relished the feeling of being so deeply, unconditionally connected to Percival. To being Percival's vessel. His lover. He felt so unbelievably full, as if Percival's cock was lined up with his spine, the shaft snugly pressing into his ribcage, the bulging head flush against his heart. He wanted to feel Percival's cum spurt into his lungs, wanted to feel it fill his throat, his mouth, and dribble past his lips, hot and salty and filthy. He wanted to be so full of Percival that he could wrap his arms around his middle and feel the veins of Percival's meat through his abdomen.

Percival's hands had returned to Merlin's dick to massage it gently, and Merlin felt Percival's intake of breath as he felt it already hardening again. Merlin blushed into the blankets, and felt around with his hand until he reached the oil and cum-slick point where Percival's manhood (responding to his own burgeoning arousal, dear God it felt good to feel it thicken and harden inside like that) invaded his own body. Percival's hand joined his, and they both felt the large length of flesh slide out as Percival rested his weight on his left forearm, his forehead against the back of Merlin's neck, and slammed it back in.


End file.
